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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27755482">Bathtime</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentz123/pseuds/agentz123'>agentz123</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Who is Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera? [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fenton is a sweetheart, Fluff, Gen, Science, aged-down characters, headcanons</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 07:47:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>832</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27755482</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentz123/pseuds/agentz123</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's bath time in the Cabrera household.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>M'ma Cabrera &amp; Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Who is Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera? [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2030281</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Bathtime</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Another headcanon: the Crackshells are crazy. Smart, yes, but absent-minded as HECK. Too much so and they're not taken seriously (which I will touch on later!) And I want to attribute Fenton's fast paced talk to OG Fenton (Ham here) and the fact that he doesn't see his mom that much so he makes whatever little time he has with her count.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“<em>¡Pollito!</em> Bath time!” Valeria called throughout the house. Usually her son came pouncing, his tail wagging in excitement for playing in the bubbles and pretending he was mixing something in a laboratory. But he was nowhere to be found.</p><p>She approached his bedroom door, which was slightly ajar. “<em>¿Pollito?</em>” she said softly, afraid he was sick.</p><p>She barely had enough time to stick her head in the room and take a peek, because a fierce duckling nearly jumped on top of her, the surprise causing her to lose her grip on the towels. “¡Ay, Mamá!” He shoved a book in her beak. “<em>¡Mira! ¡Mira!</em> I taught myself!”</p><p>“Okay, relax!” she chuckled, taking the book. Her smile dropped slightly as she tried to make sense of Fenton’s messy letters and numbers (they should really practice the letter b…). And was that a triangle? “Um...<em>¿qué es esto, pollito?</em>”</p><p>He snatched the book away and turned it towards her so she could see the demonstration his finger was giving. “<em>¡Química!</em> Balancing reactions and stoichiometry! You have to make sure everything matches up on each side, because mass cannot be created or destroyed. That’s the principle of mass conservation! I just have to try and get the...the...an-thahl-piece?” He tripped over the word, the different pronunciations of the new vowels slightly confusing him, but he quickly resumed his blinding pace. “To add up as well. But I am a little stuck on whether delta H equals delta U plus constant pressure times the change in volume, or if delta U plus delta H adds up to constant pressure and delta V, or something like that. And then the dumb conversions. Why is everything in miles or liters here?”</p><p>Val listened politely, because she and Fenton hadn’t been able to have a true conversation in days, with her late nights on the beat. But honestly, everything that was just said in the last ten seconds was as unintelligible as el Pato Donald. “<em>No tengo una idea, pollito,</em> but you can try to work it out in the tub. <em>Ven.</em>”</p><p>“Can I bring my beaker?”</p><p>“If you can find it in this mess.” She pointedly picked up the abandoned book and placed it on the desk. “I thought you were going to clean up in here, Fenton.”</p><p>“I-I was!” he shouted sheepishly. He hopped over to some random pile and pulled out his plastic beaker as if he had known its exact location this entire time. “But I end up losing stuff when I do.”</p><p>She sighed. It was fitting, really. “We can talk about this later. Come.”</p><p>He took her hand as they walked across the hall to the bathroom. Val dipped her palm in the water she had run before calling for Fenton, and it was still warm. While she was adding the soap, her son had dove in, splashing water all over her and the tile. “<em>Pollito</em>…” she scolded gently. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”</p><p>He thought for a moment. “Yes! Thank you, Mamá!” He climbed out, neglecting the mat, and opened the cupboard under the sink. He slipped on the small goggles he kept in there and jumped back into the tub.</p><p>“Anything else?”</p><p>“No!”</p><p>She tugged on the hem of his soaked shirt.</p><p>“...oh.”</p><p>“<em>Esto niño</em>…” She slipped the article over his head, wrung it out, and threw it into the hamper without looking. Fenton gazed in amazement before continuing to play. Val stood up, gave him a washcloth, and retreated to the toilet to read the newspaper from three days ago. She remembered to save the comic strips for Fenton and had them on the kitchen table for tomorrow morning.</p><p>After a few minutes of increasing frustration at the political section, she lowered the paper to check on her duckling. The cooling water never bothered him, no matter how many times she told him he could catch a cold. She grabbed another washcloth, removed his goggles, and started cleaning his face.</p><p>“Mamá!” he whined. “You have to wear the proper eye gear in the lab!”</p><p>“In this lab, <em>patitos</em> have to have clean faces before doing anything.” She wiped the glazed doughnut crumbs from his bill and moved onto the plastic glasses. She replaced them after clearing out the soap.</p><p>“Did you do your tail?</p><p>He started grumbling. Was he going to make her repeat herself?</p><p>“Fenton. <em>¿Te lavaste tu cola?</em>”</p><p>“Yes!” he muttered a bit more clearly.</p><p>“Let me see.”</p><p>“Mamá!”</p><p>She looked. It was fine. She nodded her gruff approval before tugging on the drain. “Don’t be embarrassed to be clean.”</p><p>“<em>¡Pero, no soy un bebé!</em> I can clean my <em>cola</em> just fine.”</p><p>“<em>¡Oye!</em> You will always be my <em>bebé,</em> whether you can clean your cola or not. Now, come. Let’s get ready for bed.”</p><p>He stopped pouting while she dried him off. “Um, Mamá?”</p><p>“Yes, Fenton?”</p><p>“Can I sleep with you tonight?”</p><p><em>¡Esto niño!</em> Didn’t he just say --</p><p>“Yes, my <em>pollito,</em>” she chuckled anyway. “I would love that.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi everyone! As you can see, I put a few Spanish phrases in this work. Here are the translations, and please let me know if there's anything I missed!</p><p><em>Mira</em> = look<br/><em>¿qué es esto?</em> = What is this?<br/><em>Química</em> = chemistry<br/><em>No tengo una idea.</em> = I have no idea.<br/><em>Ven.</em> = Come.<br/><em>Esto niño...</em> = This boy..<br/><em>patitos</em> = ducklings<br/><em>cola</em> = tail<br/><em>¿Te lavaste tu cola?</em> = Did you wash your tail?<br/><em>bebé</em> = baby<br/><em>Pero, no soy un bebé</em> = But I am not a baby<br/><em>Oye</em> = hey</p></blockquote></div></div>
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